


The Monsters Under The Bed

by Mildredo



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 00:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mildredo/pseuds/Mildredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Blaine had managed to avoid telling Kurt about his (stupid, childish, pathetic) fear for so long that he wondered if he could get away with never telling him. But then he would climb into bed and fall asleep in a fully-lit room, thinking of the nights he wanted to share with Kurt and how it would be impossible to keep the lights on without Kurt knowing that his year-younger boyfriend had a phobia that normal people grow out of by the time they’re eight.<br/>Blaine was scared of the dark, and Kurt had to find out sooner or later."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monsters Under The Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2012 Kurt/Blaine Reversebang. Accompanying artwork can be found here: http://portraitofemmy.tumblr.com/post/25784052629/reverse-bang-art

Blaine was invincible. He wasn’t scared of spiders, snakes, or heights. He definitely wasn’t scared of thunderstorms or the dark. He liked hiding in dark cupboards when Cooper played hide-and-seek with him. He would curl into a ball amongst cereal boxes or cleaning products and shut the door behind him, enjoying the quiet and the stillness while knowing that Cooper would eventually find him. He liked hiding under his sheets in his own private fort, playing with his toy robots. He liked to watch storms from the window. He liked the way the lightning would crack through the sky while dark clouds swirled and rain fell heavy, thudding against the glass and splashing off the ground. He liked pestering Cooper until he gave in and got him dressed up in his raincoat and boots, watching him from the mostly-dry porch as Blaine span around and danced and splashed in the puddles until he was soaked to the bone and shivering and was put straight into a hot bath.  
No, Blaine wasn’t scared of storms or darkness. Until they were combined, that is. If a storm lasted into the night, Blaine would become frightened and clingy. His parents would tell him to stop being silly, that it was just rain, that there was nothing to be scared of. He was six, he wasn’t stupid, he knew that rain wasn’t really scary. It was the same stuff he liked to slosh about in during the day. There was something different about it at night, though. The rain seemed to fall heavier and the thunder seemed louder. During the day, Blaine would happily count the seconds between the thunder and the lightning and proudly tell Cooper or his dad or whoever was closest that he knew how far away the storm was. At night, Blaine would count to make sure it was far, that it was moving away and not closer. He saw stories on the television while his parents were watching the news about people and houses and trees that were struck by lightning. When his eyes went wide with terror, his dad would tell him that it was rare, that’s why it was on the news, and it wasn’t going to happen to them.

It didn’t help.

Blaine lay in his bed, clutching the covers so hard his knuckles turned white, his arms wrapped around the teddy bear Cooper had passed on to him when he was born. The bear was ragged and dirty from six years of his love, and years of Cooper’s love before him, but Blaine wouldn’t let his mom wash it. It was too special to risk ruining with soap and too-hot water, and it wouldn’t smell like his big brother any more. Sometimes, when the smell started to fade, Blaine would take it to Cooper and he would spray it with his cologne. Blaine liked that.

The sound of the rain was almost soothing enough to calm Blaine to sleep, but every time he started to get sleepy the thunder would clap and make him jump, and then the lightning would flash and illuminate the room, casting creepy shadows for a split second and he would be scared all over again. There was a little clock on Blaine’s bedside table – digital, because he was still learning to tell time – and it told him that it was two forty seven. The rest of the house was quiet, so Blaine figured that was late. He wasn’t too sure what happened to the world after his usual seven thirty bedtime, but if it was this then he wanted no part in growing up.  
Another loud clap of thunder and Blaine jumped so hard the bed bounced. He held his teddy impossibly closer as he began to cry the tears he’d been trying really hard to hold back. It was terrifying, and he didn’t want to be on his own any more. He knew that if he went to his parents they would just get mad, because they had busy jobs and they needed to sleep and any time Blaine had gone to their bedroom in the middle of the night after he was three, he was just told off. Blaine gathered all his courage and, still hugging his bear, crept out of his room and padded along the hall to push open the only door he knew he could. The room was dark and the curtains were open, with droplets of water cascading down the outside.

“Coop? Coop, you awake?” Blaine sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas.

A muffled groan came from somewhere in the room and, eventually, Cooper turned his bedside light on and sat up.

“Blaine?” Cooper rubbed the sleep from his eyes and squinted as they adjusted to the light. “Blaine, what’s wrong?”

Blaine shrugged, curling his toes into the carpet and worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Cooper climbed out of bed and shut the door behind Blaine before kneeling down to his level and wiping away fresh tears with his thumb.

“Talk to me, little man.”

“M’scared” Blaine said quietly, staring at the floor. Thunder rumbled again and Blaine flinched, more tears running down his face. Cooper put his hands firmly on Blaine’s shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” he observed, before placing a kiss on his little brother’s forehead. “Do you want to come and sleep in my bed?”

Blaine nodded weakly and Cooper stood up, scooping Blaine up in his arms. Blaine clung around Cooper’s neck until he was laid down on the bed. Cooper tucked Blaine in and climbed in next to him and Blaine immediately attached himself to Cooper’s side, resting his head on Cooper’s chest while sucking his thumb and still desperately clutching his bear. Cooper was warm and comforting. He squeezed his arms around Blaine a little tighter every time the storm made him tense and whimper, whispered that it was all going to be okay and ran his fingers softly through Blaine’s curls until he fell asleep.

In the morning, Blaine woke up in an empty bed. It took him a moment to remember that he was in Cooper’s room, and he stretched out as wide as he could because Cooper’s bed was bigger than his and he really liked stretching. He climbed out of bed with his bear and stood on tiptoes to peer out of the window. The storm had stopped. The sky was still a thick layer of grey-white cloud and the ground was mostly puddles. Blaine hoped Cooper would take him outside to splash around in them later. He made his way to the door and opened it, hoping he’d hear someone downstairs so he knew it was okay to get up. He could hear voices, and they sounded angry, so Blaine sat on the top stair and listened. His mom and Cooper were arguing.

_“He needs to learn to be independent, Cooper!”_

_“He’s just a little kid! What he needs is to be comforted when he’s scared!”_

_“He’s old enough to know that a bit of rain isn’t going to hurt him. He likes it enough when he can go out and get filthy and soaked in it.”_

_“He’s six! You didn’t see him, he came into my room and he was crying and trembling. The thunder made him jump so far off the ground it’s a wonder he didn’t hit the ceiling!”_

_“Attention seeking, that’s what he does. And you give it to him in spades. It won’t do him any good, you know. What’ll happen to him in a couple of years when you go off to college, huh?”_

_“I would hope that my parents would be more than qualified to take care of my baby brother. I’ve done more to raise him than you have and I still have perfect grades, but I know which part you care about more.”_

_“We just want to you to be successful, Cooper. And Blaine.”_

_“You know who Blaine gave his report card to? Me. And it was great, it was so good, his teacher says he’s doing really well and he’s got high scores in everything but he didn’t get such a high score in gym and he was scared that you’d be mad. He’s in first grade; he can’t be under that kind of pressure. It’s not healthy.”_

_“You’re like your father; he’s too soft on the boy as well. But one day one of you has to take over the family business, and one day you’ll understand that.”_

_“I’ll never understand that. I want Blaine to be happy and healthy and whatever he wants to be. So should you.”_

A door slammed and Blaine tried to scramble off his stair but Cooper was at the bottom before he could. His angry expression softened and he ran up the stairs to Blaine, who was stood up by now, chewing his sleeve with wet eyes. Cooper picked him up and took him back into his room, settling them both down on Cooper’s big, comfy bed.

“Why were you yelling?” Blaine asked quietly.

“Mommy got mad because I let you come into my room,” Cooper sighed. “But you’re my little brother, so I’m going to protect you when you’re scared, aren’t I?”

Blaine nodded and buried his face into Cooper’s chest and cried. He didn’t understand why there had needed to be yelling, why his mom was trying to plan his life for him or treat him like he was more than his age. His little body heaved with the effort of crying, and Cooper held him tight until he calmed down enough to talk.

“What happens when you go to college?”

“You don’t have to worry about that yet, squirt,” Cooper said, pressing a kiss into Blaine’s hair. “It might not even happen, and if it does, it’s a couple years away. But I promise that we’ll both be brave enough to handle it, okay?”

“Okay.” Blaine pressed tighter to his brother, the bear smooshed between them. He still didn’t know what would happen when Coop went away, or why his mom was so mad, but he knew that his big brother would always be there to protect him from the storm.

*

It was an easy thing to hide. He could leave Kurt’s house when it started to get dark with the excuse of being home for dinner or chores. If he was staying for dinner, he’d leave his car at home so Kurt could drive him back. Movie nights were always held at his house because it was quieter and Finn inevitably crashed movies at Kurt’s house. In his own house, he could leave the lamp in the corner on without question. The darker evenings of winter meant more surprise breakfast dates, which turned out to be something Kurt loved more than dinner dates.

Blaine had managed to avoid telling Kurt about his ( _stupid, childish, pathetic_ ) fear for so long that he wondered if he could get away with never telling him. But then he would climb into bed and fall asleep in a fully-lit room, thinking of the nights he wanted to share with Kurt and how it would be impossible to keep the lights on without Kurt knowing that his year-younger boyfriend had a phobia that normal people grow out of by the time they’re eight.

Blaine was scared of the dark, and Kurt had to find out sooner or later.

*  
Sharing the post-orgasm bliss with Kurt was definitely something Blaine could get used to. He lay boneless and grinning as he let Kurt clean the cold, sticky come from his stomach with a tissue, and he couldn’t find it within himself to protest at the dull, quiet thud of a tied off condom hitting the floor. Arms wrapped around him and a head settled on his chest, and as he held Kurt, tracing ‘B ♥ K’ on his bicep, it occurred to Blaine that this was the fabled afterglow he’d heard about. Everything seemed to shimmer with gold, he felt warm and loose, and the most astounding boy he’d ever met was in his arms. Blaine sighed contentedly and Kurt nuzzled his face against Blaine’s chest in response.

“Happy?” Kurt asked, looking up at Blaine. His eyes were wide and bright, and he was smiling his big, just-for-Blaine smile.

“Happy,” Blaine confirmed. He leaned down to meet Kurt in a messy kiss, which quickly turned into grins pressed together, unable to hold back giggles as their noses bumped together. 

Blaine shifted to pull the sheets out from underneath them as the temperature in the room returned to something resembling the October chill outside and the air caused clammy, naked skin to contract into goose bumps. The sheets settled over them and Kurt curled into Blaine’s side, yawning.

“Don’t wanna leave,” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Stay.”

The word was out before Blaine could think about it, and he instantly felt his heart begin to race. Kurt was already reaching out to find his phone. He checked his messages and sighed, relieved.

“Finn’s with Rachel,” Kurt said, reading from the screen. “I can stay.”

Blaine wanted to hide. He wanted to run away, or tell Kurt to go home, or do anything that would stop this from being it. He was convinced that as soon as Kurt found out the one secret he was still keeping, that would be it. And they couldn’t break up now, not after everything they’d gone through with Sebastian and West Side Story and tonight. But he wanted to wake up beside Kurt. He wanted to bring him coffee in the morning and drink it together and talk about their dreams and drive to school with P!nk on the radio and everything feeling the same yet so completely different. And that won.

Kurt reached over to turn off the light. The room was flooded in paralyzing darkness and Blaine froze, clutching the sheets tightly as he did as a child, his breaths shuddering as he told himself not to cry. He jumped at a hand touching his shoulder and, fuck.

“Blaine? Are you alright?”

Blaine swallowed hard, trying to gain composure and failing. “Can you - can you turn the light back on?” he managed, his voice small, weak and pathetic.

Blaine felt Kurt move and the light clicked back on. Blaine took a deep breath, uncurling his fists and raising his hands to rub furiously at his wet eyes.

“Blaine?”

Kurt was sat up, his face contorted into a concerned frown, and Blaine pushed himself upright. His fingers twined together in his lap and he stared at them, watching them twist and turn around each other.

“I just - I’m scared of the dark,” he shrugged. “It’s stupid, I know. You probably don’t want a boyfriend who’s still afraid of the dark and I understand and you can leave if you want, or, um, there’s the sofa, or -”

Kurt cut him off, lifting his chin with a finger and kissing him softly.

“Okay,” he said, pressing his forehead to Blaine’s.

“Okay?”

“We’ll sleep with the light on.”

Blaine nodded slowly and followed Kurt as he lay back down. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine and held him close, pressing occasional kisses to his temple. Blaine knew that in the morning Kurt would want to talk about it, because Kurt always wanted to talk about things, but right now he was content to hold him and leave the light on, falling asleep between soft kisses and murmured declarations of love, and Blaine had never loved him more.

The first thing Blaine noticed when he woke up was that he ached. The second was that the air smelt of coffee. It took until soft lips met his forehead to remember that he wasn’t alone, as he opened his eyes and saw Kurt smiling down at him. Kurt was wearing clothes Blaine recognizedas his own - a t-shirt which was too small for him and stretched tight across his chest, and a pair of steel grey boxer briefs. Blaine had never considered how hot it would be to see Kurt wearing his clothes in the morning, with messy hair and bleary eyes, but now he’d seen it he never wanted Kurt to wear anything else.

"I was going to make you coffee," Blaine mumbled sleepily, reaching towards the mug on the nightstand and grabbing it on the third attempt. Kurt settled himself on the bed and sipped from his own mug.

"I was awake, I wanted coffee, and I figured you would too," Kurt shrugged. Blaine leaned over and kissed Kurt, coffee and morning breath mingling between dry lips and tongues.

"Have I ever told you that you’re the best boyfriend ever?" Blaine grinned, pulling away and taking a sip.

"Mm, once or twice," Kurt smirked. He extended an arm towards Blaine, who settled himself under it, pressing a wet kiss to Kurt’s neck.

"So," Kurt said. “Anything you want to talk to me about?"

"So the coffee comes with an ulterior motive."

"Mmhmm," Kurt hummed. “I don’t want to push. I just… want to understand.”  
Blaine nodded almost imperceptibly and took a few long, slow gulps of coffee. Kurt knew now, so he figured there was no point trying to hide it any more. He trusted Kurt, trusted him more than anyone, but still – he’d never talked about it out loud. It had been trapped inside his head since he was a kid – _you’re scared of the dark, it’s juvenile and stupid and no one would want to know you if they knew_. But, it was time. So he put down his mug and took a deep breath to steady himself.

“I wasn’t – I wasn’t scared when I was a kid. Only when there was a storm at night. And then Cooper would let me sleep in his bed so I wouldn’t be scared. But then… I guess Cooper moved away and there were a lot of storms after that. I’d be trying to sleep and if it wasn’t the rain and the thunder, it was my parents yelling at each other. And then Sadie Hawkins happened, and I was on my own in the hospital at night and… it felt like they were hiding in the dark and they were going to come out at any moment and finish the job. If I don’t turn the light off, they have nowhere to hide. With other things, you can avoid them. But it gets dark every day and there’s no escaping it.”  
Blaine looked up at Kurt through damp lashes, determined not to cry this time. He gave a small shrug and Kurt’s arm tightened around his shoulders, the other snaking across his waist and holding him tight.

“Oh, honey,” Kurt breathed into Blaine’s hair, scattering kisses across the side of his head.

“I’m used to it,” Blaine sighed. “I’ve gotten good at pretending it’s not there. The only other people I’ve ever told are Wes and David, and that was because we had to room together when the Warblers were away for competitions.”

“Your parents don’t even know?”

“No,” Blaine snorted bitterly. “They wouldn’t understand. My mother already thinks I’m an attention-seeker and my dad is still trying to comprehend how his son could want a boyfriend. They get pissed about the electricity bill but they figure it’s the dryer or something.”

A loud beep rang out, which Blaine quickly identified as Kurt’s phone. Kurt reached out to the nightstand to check the message, groaning loudly as he did so.

“Guess who’s decided that a breakfast line run before school is happening? Hint: if she didn’t have to play Maria for the next few nights, I would strangle her skinny little neck.”  
Blaine laughed, a full, happy laugh that made the corners of Kurt’s mouth turn up from their frown. Kurt threw his phone back onto the nightstand and made to get up, but Blaine grabbed his arm to pull him back.

“Last night… apart from the freak out, everything else was…”

“Perfect,” Kurt grinned, leaning down to kiss Blaine through their smiles. “Perfect.”

“Perfect,” Blaine repeated and followed Kurt out of bed, their hands still firmly linked as they made their way along the hall to the bathroom.

*

Kurt wanted to understand. He could sympathize until the cows came home – he understood what it was like to be so afraid of something that you would do anything and everything in your power to avoid it. But he’d never really had a real phobia, something irrational and against all logic but still so real and vivid and _terrifying_. And he had never been afraid of the dark.

Even as a little kid, Kurt had loved the night time. It was a quiet, magical time that he was rarely allowed to be awake to enjoy. Sometimes, he would creep out of bed when he knew his parents were asleep and sit on the back porch for a while, looking at the stars. One time he fell asleep out there and woke up both itchy from insect bites and grounded for giving his dad a fright when he hadn’t been in his bed that morning.

There was one particular night that stuck in Kurt’s memory. He was seven, the summer before his mom died. It had been the hottest summer for a long time. There were water restrictions so the ground was dry and cracked, and the plants were wilting. Kurt had crept downstairs as usual, but instead of finding his spot empty, his mom was sitting there, wrapped in a blanket. She didn’t say anything, just smiled and held out an arm for Kurt to join her. He curled into her side and breathed deeply, the scent of his mother mixing with the heavy heat in the air, and the blessed cool that came as the rain finally, finally fell. They talked for a little while after the rain started, the sort of conversation that mothers don’t usually have with their seven year olds. Life, rain, and metaphors mixed with homemade cookies and hot cocoa. Kurt liked to have grown up conversations. He could talk about carburetors and engines and tires with his dad, or how the rain gives the world enough life to go on a little longer with his mom, but they’d still tell him to do his homework and eat his greens.

The rain hardly stopped for a month. It was biblical. Kurt had even asked his dad if he knew how to build an ark. By the time the sun came out again, Kurt’s mom was getting sicker. That night, curled up with her on the porch watching the blessed rain, was one of Kurt’s last memories of his mom as she was – soft, warm, smelling of washing powder and perfume and comfort. Alive.

The day of her funeral was the first time it had rained since the deluge. The sky was almost as dark as night, and the ceremony was full of candles and the steady thud-thud-thud of rain hitting the windows. Kurt sat next to his dad in his suit, lay flowers on her coffin, and listened to people talking about his mom. He sang – he had told his dad he wanted to so they had left space in the service, but it was easily skipped over if the day had come and Kurt couldn’t do it. But he did. He stood up and sang about bluebirds and rainbows because The Wizard of Oz was one of her favorite movies and when they watched it together and sang along, she smiled so brightly she could’ve taken the place of the sun.  
Everyone cried but Kurt didn’t understand why. He missed his mom, but he thought it would be sadder if she was still sick and pale and thin, with no energy to move or speak or eat. It would be sadder if she was still in a horrible hospital bed with tubes making her eat and breathe. Kurt kept hearing people talking about heaven and he wasn’t sure that it was real. It didn’t sound real. But if his mom was there, then that couldn’t be a sad thing. And if she was somewhere else, somewhere beyond the rainbow, or nowhere at all but in a box in the ground in Ohio, at least she wasn’t hurting any more.

Kurt loved the rain and he loved the night. He liked to sit outside during thunderstorms and watch as the sky swirled and cracked and fat raindrops splashed heavily onto the ground. He liked the way the leaves on the plants gave no resistance to the onslaught, but instead just bent and dipped under the force. He liked watching the puddles form and change shape. His dad made him come inside after a while, usually under coercive promises of cocoa and a movie before bed. While the cocoa was heating, Kurt would sit and watch the raindrops on the window, racing them in his mind. Kurt picked The Wizard of Oz every time, and he would cuddle under a blanket with his dad, singing along and trying to encourage him to do the same. Kurt was usually asleep before Dorothy clicked her heels, dreaming of rainbows and ruby slippers and cities made of emeralds.  
Kurt’s positive associations with the night and the darkness made it hard to fully empathize. Where he saw peace and magic and the promise of a new day, Blaine saw malice lurking and creeping up on him, ready to destroy him again. Which is how Kurt found himself hunched over his laptop with a cup of chamomile tea late the next night, frantically searching for ways to help Blaine. He read stories from people who had overcome a fear of the dark as adults and copied the techniques and exercises which seemed to work best into a document entitled ‘for Blaine’. It was inconspicuous enough that no one would click on it if they were using his computer, especially because the primary user of the laptop – other than Kurt – was Finn, and Kurt knew exactly what Finn would assume the file contained.

*

The next few days were a whirlwind, with performances and Rachel convincing Artie to hold extra rehearsals to keep it fresh. Blaine didn’t get to spend any proper time alone with Kurt for the rest of the week, until a show, rehearsal, and blissfully Rachel-free Sunday presented itself. Kurt let himself into the house, having given up on ringing the doorbell over the summer at Blaine’s insistence. Blaine was working on his geography homework when Kurt walked into his room, wrapping his arms around Blaine’s neck and kissing his cheek.

“You’re early,” Blaine said, turning his head to kiss Kurt lightly on the lips.

“Very astute,” Kurt said, unfurling his arms and settling on the bed. “I have something I want to give you before we go to lunch.”

Blaine span around on his chair, quirking a suggestive eyebrow at Kurt, who rolled his eyes and laughed.

“Not _that_ ,” he grinned. “Your dad’s downstairs, Blaine. I wanted to give you this.” He opened up his bag and pulled out a white folder, holding it out towards Blaine. It was filled with sheets of paper, and Blaine ran his fingers over the bumpy plastic cover before looking back at Kurt.

“What’s this?”

“It’s research,” Kurt said, crossing his legs. “There are tons of people on the internet with a fear of the dark. I printed some different things that seemed to help people, techniques and exercises, and I thought you could try them out and see if anything works for you.”

Blaine surged forward and kissed Kurt hard, pushing him back onto the bed to become a tangle of limbs and lips. The kiss eventually became slower and sweeter, the folder still clutched between Blaine’s fingers. Half pulling back, half falling off, Blaine ended up lying on the bed next to Kurt, holding the folder open above them.

“Some of these are weird,” Blaine noted, flipping through the pages. “But some seem easy enough. _Talking to your demons_ , though. That’s just odd.”

“But you’ll try them?”

“I’ll try them,” Blaine nodded. “You are incredible, you know that?”

“I just want you to be happy,” Kurt said, reaching an arm around to stroke his fingers against the soft skin behind Blaine’s ear and smiling as he felt Blaine nuzzle into the touch.

*

Blaine tried the first technique on his list that night. He lay in bed with the lights on and his phone pressed between his ear and the pillow as he listed anything that scared him and tried to rationalize his thoughts.

“There are noises. Thuds and creaks and sometimes it sounds like footsteps. It makes me feel like they’re coming; they’ll get to my room any second and finish what they started.”

“And what are the noises really?” Kurt’s voice was soothing and edged with sleep, and Blaine knew that once this was over, they would end up talking until one of them dozed off.

“If there are footsteps, it’s just my parents moving around, going to the bathroom. And, uh, the house is pretty old, and I guess old houses creak and the pipes make noises.”

It felt like a tiny step towards progress. A really tiny step, but it was the first one. Acknowledging what he already knew, really, and he felt a bit safer. When his eyelids started to droop, Blaine reached out to the nightstand and turned on the desk fan. He usually reserved it for the hot summer months, but in Kurt’s folder it had said that running a fan was good for white noise. It made his room feel colder than it already should have, but there was something comforting about falling asleep to the gentle hum of the fan and Kurt’s sleepy, slightly slurring voice in his ear.

He still slept with the lights on, but for the first time he was starting to see a future where he could turn them off.

*

Blaine didn’t try the next technique until the week of sectionals. Previously, being stressed out had just made things worse, and the lead up to the competition had been no exception. Between Sam, Finn and Sebastian, he was strung out to a point that even boxing until he couldn’t feel his hands hadn’t completely helped, and a spark of masochism ran through him as he read about the exposure writing exercise.

Blaine grabbed a notebook, a pen and a stopwatch, and settled on his bed. As he reached out to turn off the light, he clicked the stopwatch and took a deep breath as he was plunged into darkness.

_As long as you can stand it as long as you can stand it as long as you can stand it._

He flicked the light back on and checked the stopwatch, surprised and a little disappointed to find that what had felt like hours had only been ten seconds. Blaine jotted down the time and closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths and willing his heart to stop pounding, before writing down everything he could remember thinking in the darkness.

_They’re coming they want to hurt me it’s dark I’m scared I want Kurt I want my brother I want it to be okay why isn’t it okay_

A few rationalizations later ( _they are not coming, it will be okay, you can call Kurt if you need, you’ll see him tomorrow and you can tell him_), and Blaine made a promise to himself to try the writing thing as often as he could. It was like a competition with himself, trying to stay in the darkness for longer and longer each time. Blaine turned on the fan and curled into a ball under the sheets, hiding his nose from the cold air, and forced himself to think about happy things as he fell asleep, about Kurt and New York and a wedding and two kids and a dog.

*

Christmas afforded Blaine the opportunity to try out something he had been waiting for the chance to try. Kurt’s folder had said that doing something to completion, like watching a movie, could help to give him a sense of resolution so the little unresolved things didn’t nag at his brain while he was trying to sleep. Blaine had tried watching movies before bed before, always light-hearted rom-coms with predictable plots that he could watch while turning off his brain. It had never worked, though, because he would inevitably get too involved and, once the movie was over, continue to worry about his favorite characters.

He had decided that completing a project of some sort might give the same effect. He had been saving the gum wrappers for weeks, and he spread them all out across the desk with a little print-out of instructions he’d found online. He began folding and twisting the wrappers, swearing in frustration when he got parts wrong and smiling whenever he caught the faint scent of Juicy Fruit coming off the paper. It reminded him of the way Kurt tasted when Blaine kissed him after he’d chewed some of the gum, sweet and tropical.  
It took Blaine nearly two hours to get the ring perfect, with the tiny bowtie proving especially tricky, but when it was done, he kissed it and slid it into the empty velvet box. He’d found the box in a thrift store when he was a kid and bought it, hoping he could use it for a proposal one day. This was going to be close enough. Blaine’s chest swelled with pride and love as he looked at the ring in the box, imagining Kurt’s reaction, imagining it being a ring made with diamonds and precious metals one day. His gum wrapper ring was just as valuable, he thought, because it was made with love.

Blaine was so happy when he clicked the box shut and climbed into bed that he managed a full ten minutes without the lights on, and for the first time since he started, he slept without the fan running.

*

It hurt. Everything hurt. Blaine could feel Kurt’s hand holding his; he recognized the softness and weight of it even through the haze of medication. The bed was too hard, there weren’t enough pillows for him to be comfortable, and the blanket was scratchy against his skin. His body felt fuzzy, like he was floating on a hard, itchy cloud where every tiny movement would send a sharp pain shooting through his eye.

“Hurts,” Blaine tried to say, but all he heard come out was a high-pitched whine. He felt the hand on his tighten and Blaine was grateful for Kurt providing something other than _painpainpain_. Blaine tried to open his eyes, but only one worked.

“It’s okay, honey, I’m here. Keep your eye closed, it’ll hurt less.”

Kurt’s voice was soft and calming, shaking a little despite his efforts to keep it steady. Blaine closed his eye and tried to focus away from the pain. Kurt was gently stroking his face and hair, quietly singing Blaine to sleep with a song he recognized but couldn’t place.

Kurt stayed at Blaine’s bedside every moment he could. The nurses in the hospital relaxed their strict family-only policy when they realized that Blaine’s parents probably weren’t going to be there for more than a few minutes to sign paperwork (and a quiet word from recently elected Congressman Burt Hummel didn’t hurt). Blaine wasn’t surprised by his parents’ absence; his mom was running a business single-handed, and his dad was still a bit reserved about the whole gay son thing. He had everyone he needed. Kurt was there before school, he came back straight after school, and sometimes he managed to slip out during lunch to eat with Blaine and give him regards from the whole glee club. Burt was often there, usually dropping in while Kurt was at school to bring food that tasted of something other than soggy cardboard. He didn’t bat an eyelid when, through the blur of painkillers, Blaine called him ‘dad’.

The lights in his hospital room were never turned off. Blaine suspected Kurt had something to do with it, but he didn’t ask.

Blaine’s first night at home was a Saturday, and so Kurt stayed with him all evening. Kurt made sure his pillows were comfortable enough and that he ate and drank and took his medication. They curled up together on the bed, Blaine resting the good side of his head on Kurt’s chest as Kurt gently tangled his fingers in Blaine’s hair and rubbed lightly at his scalp. They put Rent on and Kurt watched it while Blaine drifted in and out of sleep to the sound of Kurt softly singing along and muttering all of the lines under his breath. At one point, Blaine woke up to find Kurt crying hard, trying not to shake with it and jolt Blaine’s head. A glance at the screen and Blaine understood – it had been paused on the image of Collins holding Angel in the hospital as he died.

“I’m not Angel,” he said, reaching an arm across Kurt’s waist. He felt Kurt’s stomach contract with a laugh and a kiss dropped to his head.

“I know. It just… reminded me. That’s all.”

“I wouldn’t suit a skirt,” Blaine said, and he felt Kurt laugh again. “Sleep with me?” he asked, his fingers twisting in Kurt’s shirt. “We can finish the movie tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Kurt said quietly, wiping the dampness from his face. “You get comfy; I’ll put some pajamas on.”

Blaine whined as Kurt slipped away to turn the TV off and start rummaging through Blaine’s drawers for pajamas, mumbling something about how unorganized they were. He curled under the covers and watched as Kurt undressed, still not over the fact that they could do things like that now. Kurt had chosen a pair of pajama pants that were his favorite pair of Blaine’s because the material was soft and the red check pattern complemented his skin tone. They were Blaine’s favorite because they made Kurt’s ass look awesome. Kurt climbed into bed next to Blaine and leaned over to kiss him lightly on the lips. It turned out that yet another downside of eye surgery was that too much kissing hurt, but occasional pecks were okay. 

“Big spoon?” Blaine asked.

“Of course.” Kurt slotted himself behind Blaine and pressed against his back. Blaine could feel the warmth of his body seeping through the fabric of his pajama shirt as a sturdy arm lay across his waist. 

“Do you want the fan?” Kurt asked, noticing the fan still sat on Blaine’s nightstand. Blaine hummed a negative.

“I’ve been sleeping without it. I think I can.”

“Okay. Lights?”

“Yeah. Not there yet. Maybe soon.”

Blaine woke up twice in the night, and each time Kurt was already awake. He wondered if Kurt was actually sleeping at all, or if he was lying awake and holding him and reminding himself that he was not Collins, Blaine was not Angel, and a scratched cornea was not a terminal illness. The first time, the pain woke Blaine up, and Kurt quickly fetched water so he could take his medication. The second time, he woke from a nightmare about evil robots in blue and red, who killed their enemies by shooting them in the face with the frozen blood of their previous victims. Blaine was sweating, and so Kurt quickly turned the fan on to cool him down and whispered comfort into his ear until Blaine’s heart stopped racing and he could sleep again.

*

Cooper was a pain in the ass. He was everywhere. It was as though he was trying to make up for missing the best part of ten years of Blaine’s life by compacting all of his saved up annoying brother energy into the one week he was in town. Blaine made a sandwich – Cooper was there, and he ate half of it. Blaine tried to do some homework – Cooper was there, lecturing him on how utterly pointless school was. Blaine took Kurt upstairs, making it perfectly clear that the ‘biology homework’ they were going to do would be incredibly scarring for Cooper should he decide to walk in unannounced – Cooper was there before the shirts were off. He was loving his newly reinstated role as big brother, and his entirely new role as cockblock. Blaine mostly wanted to smack him.

Blaine’s favorite thing about Sunday mornings was waking up next to Kurt. His second favorite thing was making breakfast with him. They would practice domesticity in the kitchen, twirling and singing to the radio in the early morning sunlight. Blaine would make the coffee while Kurt made the rich chocolate chip pancakes he could never make at home, unless he wanted to fight about his dad’s heart while Finn ate the lot. There would be a moment of utter maturity, where they would flip through the newspaper and say things like pass the sugar, darling, and then one of them would inevitably ruin it by chucking flour at the other. They would end up covered in white powder, giggling and sharing syrup-sweet, chocolate and coffee flavored kisses as they fed each other bites of pancake before leaving the kitchen in a mess to take a shower together.

Of course, Cooper ruined it.

“You kids get up way too early. I thought teenagers were supposed to sleep until the evening.”

Cooper slumped down at the bench next to Blaine and took a long sip of Blaine’s coffee. Blaine barely had time to protest before Kurt turned around from the stove and put a plate of pancakes in front of Blaine. He grinned and reached up to snake a hand around Kurt’s neck, pulling him down to kiss him, deliberately loud and wet.

“Woah! It’s far too early for a floorshow. Didn’t you get enough of that last night?” Cooper groaned, sliding Blaine’s plate towards him. He took a bite and spoke around his mouthful. “Mm, these are amazing, Kurt. Bravo.”

Kurt pulled away from the kiss and walked around the back of Blaine. Taking inspiration from his experience of infuriating brothers, he smacked Cooper around the head and slid the pancakes back to Blaine. Cooper rubbed at his ear and glared at Kurt.

“I was considering making you some of your own. But no, I’m not going to,” Kurt smirked.

“I’m just saying,” Cooper said. “I wanted to sneak in and jump on you to scare you. But every time I walked past your room, the light was on, so I figured you were, y’know, busy. And I walked past a lot. Sleeping’s boring. I’m amazed either of you can walk.”

That earned him another clip round the ear from Kurt, and a stifled giggle from Blaine. Living with Finn had served him well.

“What? It’s a logical conclusion!” Cooper pouted. “Unless my baby brother is scared of the dark.”

Blaine stopped laughing at that. He looked away, staring at his plate and shifting uncomfortably as he drew circles in the syrup with the tines of his fork.

“Oh,” Cooper said quietly. “Crap. Really?”

Blaine nodded faintly as Kurt rested a comforting arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah. I mean, I’m working on it. Kurt’s helping me. But it’s not… gone, yet.”

“How long has this been happening?” Cooper asked.

“Since the storms,” Blaine shrugged. “After you went away, it got worse. And then there was the attack, and after that I couldn’t go outside in the dark. I can now, but not for too long or I get anxious. The dark, it makes me panic. Kurt’s seen it and it’s not pretty. It’s getting better. I lasted twenty minutes without the light on last night. Back in October, I couldn’t handle a few seconds.”

“I… didn’t realize,” Cooper said.

“Do you remember me being scared as a little kid? I remember the storms, but was there anything else before that?” Blaine asked, suddenly overcome with a hope that Cooper would remember something, anything.

Cooper thought for a moment, his hands absent-mindedly playing with a mug. “When you were really small, like until you were two or three, you would scream bloody murder if mom turned out your bedroom light. I remember because I wanted to throw you out the window every time you woke me up.”  
Blaine laughed lightly at that. Cooper reached out and wrapped his arms around Blaine’s waist. Kurt tightened his arms around Blaine’s shoulders, turning the kitchen bench into a cuddle pile.

“I hate that I missed so much of you growing up.”

“He’s still got some to go. About four inches, I reckon,” Kurt quipped, and Blaine groaned.

“He cooks, he won’t take my shit, and he makes short jokes. I fully approve. You should marry this boy.”

“I will,” Blaine said, and Cooper sat up in time to see the two boys sharing dopey grins.

“Holy shit, you’ve talked about that, haven’t you?”

“What are you doing in April 2018?” Kurt beamed. Cooper groaned.

“My little brother is talking about marriage and the closest thing I’ve had to a relationship in the past six years is a long standing commitment to my right hand. This isn’t fair!”  
Cooper pushed off his stool and stomped up the stairs, leaving Kurt and Blaine giggling at his shouts of “NOT FAIR!” as he went.

Even though having Cooper around didn’t resolve any latent childhood issues Blaine thought he might have repressed, it was nice to have his brother around. To feel accepted and loved, completely, in his own home was wonderful. Blaine built up his exposure more and more over the week, and fell asleep in the dark on Cooper’s last night. He woke up in a panic an hour later, but it was still a big step.

*

Three o’clock. Blaine had to be up for school in four hours. He hadn’t slept. He couldn’t sleep. His mind was caught in an endless loop of _Kurt cheating Kurt and Chandler Kurt doesn’t love you it’s over it’s all over_. Blaine sat up and looked around his room. There were traces of Kurt everywhere. His sweater was still hanging over the back of Blaine’s chair. Some of his moisturizers were on the dresser, next to the photo from his presidential campaign. The other side of the bed still smelt like him. Blaine fell back onto the pillow and screwed his eyes shut, hoping that if he concentrated hard enough, he could make it all go away.

Four o’clock. It wasn’t going away. Blaine’s limbs were starting to feel heavy and floaty at the same time, as if they were no longer attached to his body. He couldn’t cry any more – when he tried nothing but dry sobs and staccato breaths came out. He held his little stuffed dog close and wondered how everything could change so quickly. Everything just hurt and nothing made sense, and when Blaine closed his eyes all he could see was flirty texts between his boyfriend and someone who was not him. He turned the lights off just to feel something, anything other than the ache in his chest. Blaine sat in the dark and felt himself begin to panic. He challenged the darkness aloud to take him, to end it, but nothing happened. He turned the light back on, buried his face into his pillow, and screamed.

Five o’clock. Blaine had given up trying to sleep. He had tried to do some homework, but he couldn’t focus on math when _his boyfriend was cheating on him_. His head felt fuzzy from lack of sleep and his eyes were stinging from the effort of staying open. He was numb, as though his capacity for emotions had gone to sleep without him. He ended up in the kitchen, frying eggs and making coffee strong enough to fuel a small rocket. Caffeine was going to be the only way to, somehow, get through the day.

_You are the love of my life._ It had been a struggle to get this far into the day, but Blaine had managed it without falling asleep at his desk once. Except for a moment in Biology, but he woke up straight away so it didn’t count. Blaine hugged Kurt tight, inhaling deeply and feeling himself finally relax. He kissed Kurt lightly as they broke apart and stood up, ready to go back to class.

“Thank you, Miss Pillsbury,” Kurt said, clasping Blaine’s hand.

“You’re welcome,” she beamed, and then paused. “Blaine? Did you get any sleep last night?”

“No,” Blaine admitted. “I’ve been awake, um, about forty hours, I think. I lost count somewhere around twenty eight.”

Kurt squeezed Blaine’s hand as he shrugged, and Blaine felt a new wave of exhaustion begin to wash over him.

“I’ll tell you what,” Miss Pillsbury said brightly. “It’s nearly the end of the day. I’ll excuse you both from class. Go and get some sleep, Blaine. Kurt, can you drive him?”

Kurt nodded and Miss Pillsbury quickly wrote out a couple of hall passes. Blaine was grateful; he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have lasted through US History.

Finn had driven Kurt into school that morning, so Kurt drove Blaine’s car back to his house, employing such persuasive tactics as staying for Friday night dinner and sleeping right up until it was served. By the time they got to the house, the stairs could’ve been Mount Everest. Instead of climbing up to Kurt’s spacious, soft bed, Blaine collapsed onto the sofa. Kurt arranged some cushions under his head and covered him with a blanket. Blaine closed his eyes as he felt Kurt resting his feet on his lap. Kurt unlaced his shoes and began massaging his feet, and Blaine fell asleep to the sound of the whispered apologies Kurt thought he couldn’t hear.

*

Blaine had been worried about Chicago. Not about competing at Nationals, not about getting lost in the city, or the combined wrath of Rachel and Santana if they lost. He worried about having to share a room. The hotel rooms had been organized a few weeks previously, and Blaine had decided that it could be a challenge - a target for him to reach, sharing a hotel room with the Glee guys without freaking out. Kurt had chosen, of course, to be with the girls, but Blaine was certain he could do it.

But now they were there, it was a different story.

“Lights out in five minutes please, guys,” Mr. Schue called over the noise in the boys’ hotel room. “We’ve got a long day of rehearsals tomorrow.”

Puck and Sam were engaged in some kind of guitar battle, Mike was trying to teach Finn some dance steps, while Artie, Joe and Rory were engrossed by a video game on the console Puck had packed in place of fresh clothing. Kurt and Blaine were lying on Blaine’s bed, curled together and doing their best to pretend that they weren’t surrounded by their loud, messy friends, and now their teacher.

“Kurt, back to your room. You wanted to room with the girls; you can’t have it both ways.”

“I’m going,” Kurt called, irritated, and Mr. Schue let the door click shut. “Are you going to be alright?”

Blaine shrugged. “I’d rather be with you.”

“Mr. Schue will be back in his room by now. You can come back with me. He doesn’t come into the girls’ room in the mornings; too much lawsuit potential, I guess. Best case scenario, Miss Pillsbury comes in and she won’t say anything. Worst case, it’s Coach Sylvester and we have to eat gravel for breakfast.”

“I’ll risk it,” Blaine said, kissing Kurt once before climbing off the bed. He grabbed a pair of pajamas and his toothbrush from his bag and took Kurt’s hand to pull him up. Their shouted goodnights went unacknowledged as they slipped out of the room and along the hall.

The girls’ room was much cleaner than the boys’ was. The floor was clear, clothes were neatly folded rather than strewn everywhere, and costumes were hanging in a neat row along the front of the closet. The air smelled of perfume, shampoo, and toothpaste, a welcome change from the pungent odor of farts and old socks they had left behind. Rachel was the only one out of bed, performing vocal exercises in front of the mirror. Tina was playing Temple Run (Blaine could tell from the squawks coming from her phone) and Mercedes was flipping though a magazine while nodding her head along with her iPod. Quinn was reading a book Blaine recognized as their Lit homework, Sugar was texting, and Santana and Brittany were cuddling in what were obviously two beds pushed together. Blaine looked at Kurt’s little bed and wished that they had had the same idea.  
The logistics of fitting two people into a bed designed for one person were tricky. Kurt had picked a bed in the corner, and so he ended up with his back against the wall and Blaine’s back pressing into his chest. They fit, but only just. It was cozy; somewhat uncomfortable, but infinitely better than being in separate rooms, and Blaine fell asleep before the lights were off.

Everything was dark, and Blaine could hear noises. The sounds of people breathing. They were coming, they were there, and they were going to kill him. There were sirens outside. They were for him. It was still in his room. He reached out towards his nightstand to turn the light on but his hand fell, hitting against the side of the bed. An arm tightened around his waist and that was it, he was going to die and he knew he was right, he knew they had been hiding in the dark and just waiting for the right moment.

“Blaine,” Kurt whispered, pulling Blaine back against him. “It’s okay.”

Oh, right. He was in a hotel room in Chicago, not his bedroom. The breathing he could hear was the girls asleep, and the arm was Kurt. Okay.

Blaine let himself sag in Kurt’s arms, trying to breathe deeply and stop the shaking he could feel in his limbs. He felt his racing heart begin to slow as Kurt kissed lightly at the back of his neck, and fell back to sleep with kisses on the sensitive skin behind his ear.

Their second night in Chicago, Blaine stayed up until the lights went out and talked himself down from the waves of panic without waking Kurt. The third night, everyone was too busy celebrating their win to sleep.

*

Saturday had been reserved for dates for the entire span of the relationship. Even before they were together, Kurt and Blaine would spend Saturday afternoons at the Lima Bean, chatting and flirting over coffee and cookies. Nevertheless, Blaine had done his best to make the first Saturday after Kurt’s graduation particularly special - partly to cheer Kurt up a little after his NYADA rejection, and partly because Kurt had, overall, been a pretty spectacular boyfriend over the past few months and Blaine needed to regain some of his own boyfriend points.

It had started with a breakfast of decadent pastries at Kurt’s favorite café, a tiny place tucked away down a side street with a delightful elderly woman who thought they were adorable. She would always refill their coffee without charge, despite the ‘no refills’ sign behind the counter. After that, Blaine let Kurt drag him around untold numbers of shops and nodded in agreement with every outfit Kurt tried on. Then there was lunch, a movie, a show at the community theatre and dinner. Blaine was pleased with himself for coming up with the day, especially when it meant he got to see Kurt grinning a wide smile, one that showed his teeth and went right to his eyes, and it felt like he was going to be okay.  
Kurt was wearing the red check pajama pants again, busy slathering moisturizer onto his face. He had started keeping miniature bottles of everything he needed on Blaine’s dresser so he didn’t have to haul it all with him every time he stayed, and Blaine secretly loved that their lives had merged to the point of keeping their stuff at each other’s houses. He knew he had at least three sweaters that had taken up residence in Kurt’s closet, and a pot of hair gel in his bathroom. Blaine watched until Kurt was finished and crawling into bed next to him, hair still damp from the shower and skin still shining with unabsorbed products.

“I want to show you something,” Blaine said, leaning over to kiss Kurt on the lips. Kurt was warm and sleepy from a long day, curling onto his side and reaching out to rest a hand over Blaine’s crotch.

“I’ve already seen it. It’s very nice,” Kurt mumbled. Blaine laughed and lifted Kurt’s hand away to rest over his stomach, too soon for another erection.

“I know you’ve seen that. Do you remember the last thing in the folder? The thing that I thought was silly?”

Kurt nodded. “The… talking to the monsters thing.”

“Yeah, that. I’ve been practicing. I still think it’s silly, but it seems to work. Look.”

Blaine reached out and turned the light off. He could feel his heart start to pound faster and Kurt’s fingers instinctively gripped tighter to Blaine’s waist. Blaine forced away the building panic and spoke out into the room.

“I know you’re there. But you can’t get me now. I’m stronger than I was when I was fourteen. You don’t scare me. You can’t hide any more. I am not afraid.”

Blaine breathed out, relaxing and sinking into the pillow. He could feel Kurt grinning against his shoulder.

“Proud of you,” Kurt said, pressing a kiss over Blaine’s heart.

“Proud of me too,” Blaine said softly. He kissed Kurt’s hair and pulled him closer. Blaine fell asleep pressed tightly against Kurt, thinking of the first night they spent together, and how the darkness now seemed so much less threatening than it had.

*

Hammering a tent peg into dry, hard ground was difficult. Besides that, it was _early_. Kurt had insisted they get up early and pitch the tent before it got too hot to do it comfortably. Except Blaine wasn’t very comfortable now, bent over with a mallet in his hand, bashing away at a silly metal peg that would not go in. It was even too early to be amused at the innuendo.

“Why are we camping, again?” Blaine asked after his mallet ricocheted off the peg for the six millionth time. “We are the least outdoorsy couple in the history of couples.”

Kurt was busy digging a hole in a patch of bare land. They were right at the end of the Anderson’s backyard, which was big enough that no one ever actually went to the furthest part. It was slightly overgrown, but mostly hidden behind a tool shed.

“Because, allegedly, camping is fun. And neither of us has ever been. There,” Kurt said, standing back proudly. “One fire pit.”

“Do you even know how to build a fire?”

“I googled it. I’m going to try the rubbing sticks together thing, but I’ve got matches for when that doesn’t work,” Kurt laughed, stepping over to Blaine and kissing his cheek. Kurt took the mallet from Blaine’s hands and swung it hard, hitting the peg into the ground first time. “And now we have a tent.”

Blaine had to admit that he got into the idea of camping. They promised not to go back into the house except for emergencies, and kept a big icebox full of food and drink inside the tent. They rubbed sun block into each other, read books, sang duets, and went on a hike through the woodland near Blaine’s house to collect firewood. Kurt strung up a hammock between two shady trees and Blaine found the small plastic pool he had played in as a child tucked away between the tool shed and the fence. He filled it with cold water from the hosepipe and dunked his feet in, providing welcome relief from the summer heat.

Splashing Kurt while he was dozing in the hammock was also fun.

Kurt built a pyramid out of sticks, following the instructions he had printed, as the sun began to set. He gave the stick rubbing a good try, but gave up after fifteen minutes and struck a match. Blaine hadn’t been sure why there had been sticks soaking in the pool all afternoon, but it made sense when Kurt extracted them and built a weird structure to go over the fire and rest a small pan on – they were wet, so they wouldn’t burn. It was genius. Blaine took down the hammock as Kurt carefully heated canned soup on the shaky frame, and served it with slices of bread and butter.

After s’mores, marshmallow kisses, and several songs around the fire, the flames had reduced to warm embers and there was a slight chill in the air. Kurt retrieved the light jackets and matching scarves he had packed, and Blaine settled back against him once the extra clothes were on. The sky was clear, sprinkled with stars and a bright, shining moon. He didn’t feel anxious or scared, but peaceful and calm. He nuzzled his head back into Kurt’s neck and felt Kurt’s arms tighten around his waist in response.

“It’s so pretty,” Blaine said quietly, afraid to break the stillness. “I wish I knew some constellations.”

“Me too,” Kurt sighed. “You know, you can’t do this in New York. The city lights are too bright, they block out the stars.”

“I’m gonna miss you.” Blaine rested his hands over Kurt’s on his stomach, pressing his fingers through the gaps between Kurt’s until they were tightly linked.

“I might not go,” Kurt admitted. “I could stay here. Work in the tire shop, do some community theater, get more experience, and audition for NYADA again next year.”

“No,” Blaine said, shaking his head. “You’ve got to go. NYU and Parsons both want you even though you were a late applicant. That says something. NYADA isn’t the only school in New York.”

Kurt hummed his acknowledgement and kissed the top of Blaine’s head. “And you’ll be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Blaine assured. “Besides, I might not be totally on my own. My parents friends are moving away and can’t keep their dog and my parents said they might take it. Except, my mom’s too busy and my dad doesn’t even like dogs, so it’d be my dog. I think it’s their way of recognizing that I’m going to be… lonely.”

“Yeah? That’s progress, right?” Kurt smiled.

“Definitely progress. I’ve met the dog when we’ve been at their house for dinner. He’s really sweet, a King Charles spaniel called Charlie with tons of energy.”

“So, basically you with a tail,” Kurt chuckled.

“If we can get an apartment that allows pets, I could bring him to New York with me. He’s only small, and we could walk him in the park and take him to the lake.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Blaine leant back to kiss Kurt on the lips. He still tasted of chocolate and marshmallows, and smelt of smoke and grass and sun block. Blaine wasn’t scared any more. He wasn’t scared of Kurt being hundreds of miles away, of having to take on the cruel halls of McKinley alone. He wasn’t scared of the dark. He felt mostly neutral towards it now, and on nights like this, he could even start to like it. His monsters were back under the bed, where they belonged.

*

Blaine practically fell through the apartment door. Charlie tugged to get away and Blaine bent down to unhook the dog’s leash from his collar. Kurt appeared from the kitchen and kissed Blaine as Charlie dashed across the floor to his bed, curled up around his new friend Margaret Thatcher, and started to gnaw on a rubber bone.

“So, how do my favorite boys like New York?” Kurt grinned.

“We walked past the park and Charlie is very excited to go on his first trip there. You didn’t have to unpack everything.” Blaine looked around at the living room, remarkably devoid of boxes in comparison to when he left.

“It was much easier without you two getting in the way. I’ve ordered pizza for dinner; cooking is too much effort after moving.”

“You’re perfect,” Blaine said, kissing Kurt again. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kurt responded. “I managed to set the TV up, what do you say we put our pajamas on and have a movie night?”

“We’re so boring and married. I love it” Blaine grinned.

Blaine picked out a stack of movies from their combined DVD collection and Kurt wore the red check pajamas he had claimed as his own. They snuggled together and ate pizza, before getting an early night with Charlie curled up in his favorite spot at the foot of the bed. The bedroom was bathed in an eerie orange glow from the streetlights outside, and Kurt had laughed when Blaine, the same Blaine who two years ago would have a panic attack in the dark, suggested that they get blackout curtains because he was now so used to sleeping in pitch-blackness.

*

Later, their daughter would be scared of the dark, and Blaine would tell her how he used to be scared too, until he learned that nothing was going to hurt him. She would cuddle close as he told her all about the tricks that he used and how Papa helped him to get over it. When she was still apprehensive, Charlie would find himself a new favorite place to sleep at the end of her bed, and she would never cry in terror at the prospect of the monsters under the bed again.


End file.
